#iwakuro

Iwakuro, 2020 Cover art for this [playlist] Alt version under the cut.

I'm honestly still so into this ship, 6 years later...I should look up the fic I wrote and draw something for it

Hey, look, y’all, I’m not dead!! Rated T for naughty language.

Kuroo lay panting, totally spent after Hajime had had his way with him. Twice. Two and a half times, if you counted almost getting caught in the alleyway…

Anyway.

The moonlight filtered through Hajime’s curtains, and Kuroo looked so, so good in Haijime’s bed. Hajime felt it, like he had a million times before, the tug in his chest. The pull toward Kuroo. The gravity that kept them coming crashing back together time and time again. Theirs was a simple arrangement. Fuck it out once or twice a week, get rid of the built up stress and the boredom of having normal day jobs, and then go on their merry ways. There was no room for feelings, for this tug.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, and Hajime’s entire being snapped to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“What is it?” Hajime asked. He drew his eyes up Kuroo’s long, long torso, wondering if their was time for another round, before he met Kuroo’s eyes and all those thoughts flew out the window.

Kuroo looked serious. It wasn’t a rare look, per se, but it wasn’t common either. Kuroo was going to break it off, Hajime knew. He was going to tell Hajime all about how he knew about Hajime’s feelings, how he didn’t want anything more than a simple fuck or two, and that would be it. No more Kuroo, in his bed, in his friend-circle, in his life. But always in his heart.

“What is it?” Hajime said again, and Kuroo turned his gaze to the ceiling.

“It’s nothing. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Now, that wasn’t right. Kuroo was never afraid to talk. Hajime leaned over and tucked his palm on the far side of Kuroo’s face, nudging him to look over.

“Hey,” he said. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.”

“Yes, this. Whatever this is, you can talk to me about it. I promise.” Kuroo looked at Hajime like he held all the answers and Kuroo couldn’t even decipher the first one. Hajime did something then that he never had. But if this was the end, he didn’t want it to go without knowing what it felt like.

He leaned in and kissed Kuroo. And, miracle of miracles, Kuroo kissed him back. He made a broken sound in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Hajime, pulling him close. Hajime knew he was heavy, but Kuroo rolled him to lay on his chest like he was nothing. When Kuroo pulled away, Hajime closed his eyes and waited for the end.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, nudging his knuckle against Hajime’s face. “You’re crying.”

“Just. Get it over with,” Hajime said.

“Don’t understand.”

“I know you’re going to break this off. So. Just. Let me have it. I’ll get out of your hair.” Kuroo stared at him.

“Hajime,” he said softly. “Do you really think I wouldn’t jump at the chance to keep any part of you I could?” Now it was Hajime’s turn to stare, as Kuroo looked up at the ceiling again, his jaw clenching in frustration. “Look,” he said. “I know this wasn’t supposed to be a thing, but like. I want it. And I’m sorry, because I know I just lost you forever, but I can’t stand it anymore.” He looked into Hajime’s eyes, and his own eyes were molten pools of gold that Hajime could never escape, even if he wanted to. “I love you, Hajime. And I’m sorry.”

“Why on earth are you sorry for that?” Hajime asked, a giggle bubbling out with the words. He threw himself down on Kuroo, laughing harder at the little oof he let out, and tucked himself into the crook of Kuroo’s neck. “I love you,” he giggled into the bruised skin there, littered with the marks of Hajime’s desire. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo-”

Kuroo cut him off by rolling them over, leaning up on his elbows to stare down at Hajime.

“You’re not fucking with me?” Kuroo asked. Hajime snorted.

“I’m not,” he said. “You’re perfect and I love you.”

Kuroo grinned, a genuine, bright thing that died and was replaced by the smarmy smirk he usually wore.

“Well, then,” he said. “How about you and I ma-”

“God, don’t ruin it,” Hajime growled. Kuroo’s phone dinged before he could answer, several times in succession. Kuroo groaned. “Who is that?” Hajime asked, petting through Kuroo’s hair and not really caring about the answer.

“Kenma,” Kuroo answered. “He said that if I didn’t confess to you tonight, he would personally come into my house and rip off my balls, because I wasn’t worthy of them.”

“Kinky,” Hajime commented. Kuroo groaned again. “Lucky me, you get to keep your balls. And nope-” he cut Kuroo off, “-don’t respond to that. Whatever is coming out of your shitty mouth, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Even if it’s that I love you and I want to keep you forever?”

Come into my ask box, ask trick or treat, and I’ll either treat you to some fluff, or trick you with some darkness!

Treat

Tetsurou knew well enough that he left well enough alone. He’d learned his lesson the year before, when he’d made a comment, and Hajime had simply stared at him for two full minutes before giving him the silent treatment for a solid week.

This year, Tetsurou knew better. Iwaizumi Hajime did not like the cold. And even though there was barely any snow on the ground yet, he knew that Hajime was going to start complaining as soon as sweater weather turned to jacket weather. And as soon as jacket weather turned up, so would the scarves.

The scarves drove Tetsurou crazy. He loved scarves. He knew that they were both fashionable, and practical. But the scarves Hajime wore were not. They were hideous, and absurdly huge. They were so long that Hajime could wrap them around his neck at least three times, and still have enough leftover to almost drag along the floor.

They were ridiculous. Hajime loved them. Tetsurou did not. But he’d learned his lesson. And he knew better, this year.

So, when Hajime wound that first scarf around himself that first day, giving Tetsurou a look daring him to say something, Tetsurou simply smiled, gave him a kiss, and told him to have a good day training the wild animals he called a volleyball team.

As autumn slowly creeped into winter, Tetsurou was ready. And ever so glad he’d kept up his weekly dinners with Kenma. At Kenma’s, he was able to bitch, and moan, and complain. But, most importantly, he was able to hide. Kenma had fast hands, and crafty skills. Skills that Tetsurou was in desperate need of learning.

And so, once a week, Tetsurou hid out at Kenma’s and worked on his secret project.

It was just shy of November when he finally finished. Feeling a little unsure of himself, he gently placed the item in a bag, and left it on Hajime’s side of the bed. When Hajime came home, he greeted Tetsurou warmly with a kiss and went to the bedroom to change.

“What the hell is this?” Hajime came out of the bedroom holding the bag.

“A gift,” Tetsurou said, shrugging a little. Hajjime came around and sat with Tetsurou on the couch, placing the bag in his own lap. Gently, he removed the tissue paper, and then finally reached in to pull out the item.

“Oh,” Hajime said. He unravelled the scarf, and began winding it around his neck. “Oh!” he exclaimed again, when he found that the ends of it had pockets for his hands. He looked up at Tetsurou, eyes glinting in delight. “This is magnificent, Tetsu. But. Why?”

1. AngstThere’s nothing quite like the way your heart just completely fucking shatters when you see the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with leaning up against the wall at a party with someone else cuddled into their side, laughing happily.

2. AUHajime wonders, for probably the tenth time this morning, how long it will take before he tosses his crown to the floor and bolts out the nearest doorway because there’s no way he’ll be any good at this ruling a kingdom thing - even if it is a ruse - and then the man kneeling at his feet gracefully rises and grins cheekily as he says, “Knight Captain Kuroo at your service, my King,” and suddenly Hajime thinks that maybe this whole ordeal won’t be so horrible after all.

3. Crack“That,” Tetsurou says, eying Hajime and his trophy warily, “is a potato with hands.”

4. Future ficHe wants to march right over and say something stupid like “hey you probably don’t remember me but you were my first kiss when I was seven and I’ve kind of been in love with you since then” but he’s thirty-fucking-one and that’s kind of sad and oh shit Iwaizumi Hajime is walking his way with a sheepish smile and stopping in front of him and opening his mouth and- “Hey this is a long shot and you probably don’t remember me but my name is Iwaizumi and we knew each other when we were kids.”

5. First TimeThey might not be each other’s first anything but that just means that when Kuroo pulls Hajime against his chest and flips them so he’s caging Hajime against the mattress that he knows exactly what he’s doing and that just makes his fumbling fingers all that more endearing.

6. FluffTetsurou yawns, loud and obnoxious, before flopping across Hajime’s chest, humming happily when Hajime reaches out and lightly scratches Tetsurou’s shoulders and it’s only a few minutes before he’s asleep again.

7. Humor“This was not what I expected when I was called to rescue a cat stuck in a tree,” Hajime says as he watches Tetsurou’s face flush and if he didn’t know any better he would swear Tetsurou looks like he’s considering climbing even higher just to try to get away.

8. Hurt/ComfortIt tears Tetsurou apart to simply sit here while the man he loves sobs into his shoulder but all Hajime wants is for him to stay at his side and, really, how can he deny that?

9. SmutHajime pushes Tetsurou into the closet with a wicked grin on his face that only grows when Tetsurou gasps and wraps his long fingers around Hajime’s wrist as he reaches into Tetsurou’s sweatpants.

So they exchange numbers, and suddenly they’re texting all the time. But whenever Kuroo gets a text from Iwaizumi he always seems to be smiling more and so starts Oikawa panicking because he thinks they are dating/like each other, which is not ok because he has serious feelings for his best friend (sorry but lowkey jealous/protective Oikawa gives me life). So he eventually confronts Kuroo about it and Kuroo just laughs. And laughs. And laughs some more. And Oikawa can’t understand what is so funny about this situation because this is literally the first time he has ever told someone he has feelings for his best friend, so Kuroo gives him his phone so he can see the texts, and literally all the messages are like secret photos taken of Oikawa/Kenma and they just....

Iwaizumi: *sends photo of Kenma in the laundromat* caught him doing laundry for the first time since he got here.

Kuroo: that’s not so bad

Iwaizumi: Kuroo! He’s been at uni 3 months!

Kuroo: ... it took me 5...

Iwaizumi: Well, now I’m just disappointed in both of you.

Kuroo: *sends unflattering photo of Oikawa sleeping on the couch* he’s finally sleeping! This might be the first time this week...

Iwaizumi: wait. Is he drooling?

Kuroo: he just might be

Iwaizumi: *saves photo for blackmail later*

ahjkhjdshjahjk anon!! i have never written anything with ubi so i will?? try my best??? and none of it will be Super Explicit but uhusgdahuil in honor of halloween :,D

***

Oikawa Tooru lived a hard life. Each night he silently curses those who had it easy; his best friend Hanamaki, who was currently harboring a six-foot cat shifter, his mail carrier who saw through the eyes of the bird on his shoulder, and of course, those who weren’t saddled with any sort of non-human (or part-human) baggage.

So what if magic had been integrated into his life? He can put up with the mummies bagging his groceries but it’s blasphemous to have to house an incubus.

All told, Kuroo Tetsurou wasn’t necessarily an ungracious guest. Sure, he takes up the entire couch on occasion. Sure, he eats all the sweets in the house even though he doesn’t require human food for energy. Sure, every few nights Oikawa would dream of cold fingers and slow smirks that helped sustain Kuroo (among other things), but really, it wasn’t a big deal.

Until– well. Until Kuroo says something that throws Oikawa for a loop.

“I’ve got a friend coming over,” drawls the lazy incubus, craning his neck to look back at Oikawa who’s seated at the table. Case files are spread out all around him.

“Mm?” Oikawa, distracted, allows himself to glance up. “Like a–? Another special friend? Like that loud one with the big hair?”

Kuroo looks smug, but he shakes his head. “No, no. Another incubus. I want him to stay here for a while.”

Oikawa chokes on his spit. “You’re inviting another incubus–”

“Yep.”

“– to stay at my home, take advantage of my hospitality–”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“– why?!” Oikawa wails, dropping his head onto the table and groaning loudly. “You’re bad enough! And am I even getting paid for this?”

“No way. This isn’t through that weird agency who wants to see how people respond to demons or whatever.” Kuroo flicks a dismissive hand. “I just think you two will get along. Plus, he lasts way longer than you. I have needs, Tooru~”

Oikawa’s face burns. “I hate you,” growls the medium, glaring down at the pictures in front of him. “You’re interfering with my work, you know.”

“It was a crime of passion!” Kuroo declares boldly. “Always is.”

“Go to hell.”

“What, back to the motherland? No way. Shitty climate and no pastries.”

“Oh my god.”

Просто, блять, посмотрите на это.